


Realm of Peace

by Maddie_Jae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is an elf, Dean is a prince, Gen, M/M, Sam is a Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 01:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddie_Jae/pseuds/Maddie_Jae
Summary: A day away from retirement, elven general Castiel gets called on for one last mission.  His garrison's task; save the Prince of Winchester, a young human named Dean, who was taken deep into the Infernal lands.  A war is raging in Winchester, and it seems that Castiel must leave one army for another to keep the young prince safe from the rising danger from the demons and Infernal beasts that plague their world.





	Realm of Peace

A desperate plea was sent to the forests of the North on behalf of King John’s eldest son shortly following the turning point of the war.  For nearly five full years, the kingdom of Winchester had struggled to defend their lands and livelihood from their invading neighbor to the West, the Infernal Lands, with its armies of monsters and demons.  The turning point in the war came after the armies of King John began coating their blades in silver, and they were able to beat back the hordes, reclaiming land and felling beast wherever their armies marched.  It was amid this growing triumph that King John’s son and best general, Prince Dean, was kidnapped from his command tent and taken deep into Infernal territory.

The plea called for the forest folk’s aide, not for the war, but only for the rescue of the prince.  Castiel was in the presence of his Lord and liege when the plea reached the royal court. Lord Edlund, King and Commander of the North Forest, heard the messenger’s plea before sending the young human boy to rest in the heaven-leaves and ponder his reply to the human king.

“This is not our business.”  The cold voice of Lucifer, favorite son of Lord Edlund, rang through the hall.  

“It is our duty to watch over the fate of this world, and the Winchester’s war is just.  They do all the land a great service by keeping the horrors of the inferno at bay.” Lord Edlund's eldest son, Michael, said without giving his brother so much as a glance.  Though the love between them was fierce, Lord Edlund’s two sons were constantly at odds with each other.

“They don’t ask for help with the monsters of the inferno, they beg for a single soul to be returned to them.  The fledgling may not even be alive.” Lucifer turned to his father, who was sitting on his throne of holly, solemnly watching the birds as they sang in the rose bushes.

“Father,”  Lucifer said, capturing Lord Edlunds’ attention.  “Send the human’s messenger back to his homeland. We are not here to pander to the world of men, let us not risk the lives of our brethren for one human.  At best, the prince has only fifty years of life left, it would be a terrible loss should an immortal elf fall in his stead.” The silence following Lucifer’s speech was complete.  Even Michael, who could usually be willing to debate with his brother for many moons, had nothing to say to such a heavy statement.

Everyone in the room, advisors, generals, and servants alike, all looked to their Lord.  The breath of the world seemed to be held baited, awaiting his decision.

Lord Edlund’s eyes followed the short flights of the sparrows as they chased each other through the twisting vines of the rose bushes.  After several moments, he turned his eyes to his foremost general.

“What say you, Castiel?”  Lord Edlund’s voice was serene, his face cautiously guarded as he regarded the dark-haired elf.

The general’s words were chosen with great care.  “The young prince has the hearts of his men. To lose such a figure to the inferno will surely be a crushing blow.  As of late the tides have turned in the Winchester’s favor, but this move could surely mark the downfall of the only kingdom who keeps the inferno at bay.”  Castiel raised his eyes from their gaze on the small patches of wildflowers at Lord Edlunds’ feet to look into the eyes of his King. “Surely we can agree that premeditation in warfare is beyond the abilities of the beasts from the inferno.  If this was a calculated move, then it was at the command of the fallen ones. We would be foolish indeed to sit idly by. Doing so would only allow our enemies to gain their strength.”

Castiel’s words caused the room to fall into an even darker, more still silence.  It seemed every elf in the hall held fear in their hearts as they ached for Lord Edlund to speak, even the jovial birds seemed subdued.

It was Lucifer that broke the silence.  “You believe this to be a deliberate measure?”  His dark eyes, wide with fear, that had been fixed on the general turned now to his brother.  “Are the infernal beasts capable of such a strategy?”

Michael shook his head slowly.  “Surely the common beasts of the infernal lands are incapable of much more than indiscriminate violence.  Only the fallen ones could be capable of such a deliberate strike to the armies of Winchester.” Michael put a hand to his chin in thought before continuing; “However, we don’t know that the prince’s abduction was indeed a deliberate act of war or simply because the beasts caught his scent.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but quickly silenced himself when Lord Edlund turned his head and looked to Castiel.

“General, does the request of King John seem feasible?”

“If the prince still lives, the garrison is ready to return him home.”  Castiel’s voice was steady and certain.

Lord Edlund folded his fingers under his chin and contemplated for a moment more.  “Ready your soldiers, Castiel. Your command will leave immediately.” Lord Edlund stood and addressed the entire hall.  “Leave me be, I have much to contemplate on this matter.”

Castiel turned with the rest to leave, but was called back by his overlord.  “Castiel, I would like a word before you leave my presence.”

Castiel turned to give his orders to his second-in-command, Uriel, who stood by his side, before returning to his place before Lord Edlund.  The two waited, and once they were alone Lord Edlund went to the window, beckoning to Castiel to join him.

“Are you still decided?”  His lord asked, eyes soft as he looked down the mountain at the swaying branches of the forest.

“I am.”  Castiel’s eyes were focused on the Southern border, towards where he knew the Kingdom of Winchester lay.

“I won’t pretend that I am unmarked by this, Castiel.”  Lord Edlund said, speaking less like the leader of their kind and more like the friend and mentor he had become to Castiel over the years.  “It is with a heavy heart that I see you leave.”

Castiel kept his eyes on the southern horizon and didn’t reply.  He knew he was wounding Lord Edlund, after 500 years of being in the Lord’s service it was with a heavy heart that he made his choice to retire, to leave behind his days in the army and the lands of his kin.

“Where will you go?”  Lord Edlund asked softly.

“I do not know.”  Castiel sighed lightly, a feeling of unease in his heart.  “I will go where I am needed, and return home when-” He faltered.  In truth, he didn’t know _when_ he would return home.

“Castiel,”  Lord Edlund’s eyes were soft and compassionate.  “You are young, it is only natural for you to want to see the world.”

“I feel as if I am abandoning my duty.”  Castiel admitted.

“I assure you, my dear friend, nobody thinks that of you.  You have served your kin well for many years, many more than was required of you.  Though you were the youngest general in the history of Elfkind, you have served with pride and distinction.  I am honored to have had the opportunity of witnessing your career, and am proud of the elf you have become.”  Lord Edlund placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I sincerely hope you find what it is you are looking for.”

“Thank you.”  Castiel said, bowing his head in awe of Lord Edlunds’ praise.

“One last thing.”

“Sir.”

“If you are right about the fallen ones, the prince will be vulnerable as long as war rages in Winchester.  He will need a high level of protection.” Lord Edlund sighed and turned away from the window, crossing the room slowly.  Castiel followed at his side. “Since you have no plans, offering the prince your protection could be a noble endeavor. You would be doing the world a great service and putting your exceptional prowess to good use.”

Castiel didn’t have a firm answer for his lord, but he was amenable.  “We shall see how the mission goes. Do you wish for me to return after we have returned the prince to his people?”

“That won’t be necessary, Castiel.  Your mission will be the only thing to delay your travels.  Once it is complete, you are free to do as you please. Send word back with Uriel, and know that the grace of the forest follows you wherever your journey may lead.”

“Thank you, Lord Edlund, and fare thee well.”

“Fare thee well, Castiel.”  Lord Edlund said, and it was with a heavy heart that Castiel turned away from his lord, not knowing when next he would see him.

 

The garrison was ready, they stood like statues in the clearing of the training grounds.  The sky had softened into a still twilight, the breeze that normally rustled the leaves of the forest had eased, leaving the air anxious and stagnant.  Michael and Lucifer stood near Castiel, their hushed goodbyes the only sound in the clearing.

“When will you be back?”  Lucifer wanted to know.

“I have no plans.”  Castiel replied, and hoisted his pack higher on his back.  Along with his usual sword, dagger, shield, and armor, the weight of his pack bore down on him heavily.  For the time being, it wasn’t too much weight, but he would have to leave it before he ventured into the inferno.  He only hoped Prince Dean’s men would be willing to watch over it.

“All the kingdom will miss you terribly, Castiel.”  Michael gripped Castiel’s forearm tightly as they shook hands.  “Call out anytime, and we will be at your side to aid you.”

“Thank you, Michael.”  Castiel felt his unease tightening like a belt around his chest, though he knew not whether it was because of his plans to leave the forest or for his garrison’s impending journey into the inferno.  Castiel gripped Lucifer’s forearm tightly, nodding firmly at his kinman before the two brothers bade him farewell and left the clearing.

“Uriel, where is the human messenger?”  Castiel asked, turning toward his second.

“Anna is fetching him now, sir.  Once she is here, we will be ready to leave.”

Castiel nodded and once again jostled his pack.  He walked silently through his waiting garrison, noting their preparations and nodding to their salutes.  The garrison was fifty strong in number, comprised of the best warriors of the forest folk. Castiel was honored beyond measure to have served with them for the time he had, and was sorrowful indeed to be putting that aside.

He needed to leave.  He had felt it in his heart for many long years, an ache and ever-growing yearning for something different.  Castiel had faithfully served his lord for over 500 years, had risen to the rank of general after a mere 150 and had slowly grown to become the most competent of them all.  Lord Edlund favored him and Castiel was loathe to give up everything he had worked so hard to accomplish for himself. He had fought the ache in his chest valiantly, but his sorrow had slowly built until he could think only of the world outside of the garrison and the forest.

It was normal for an elf as young as Castiel to feel the way he did.  In fact, he had held out quite longer than most once they felt the longing.  Castiel had reached a breaking point when his brother Gabriel finally returned to their home after nearly 300 years away.  Gabriel had come back a changed elf, a new, fresh soul that was joyful, wise, and everything a grown elf should be. Castiel hoped that we wouldn’t be away for 300 years like his brother had been.  Castiel loved his forest.

The human messenger’s footsteps were exceedingly loud as Anna guided the young human over to Castiel and Uriel, he could feel his soldiers’ excitement as they passed into the clearing of the training grounds.  Castiel looked solemnly at the small human, he was impressed to think of how far the child -for he was a child, he hadn’t even begun to grow into the formative years of manhood, his chin was bare and his voice was pitched high- how far the child had travelled to get to the forest of the elves.

“Are you ready, Anna?”  Uriel asked.

“I am.”  She replied immediately.

Uriel turned to Castiel, a question upon his brow.

“I have never visited the castle of Winchester, Uriel.”  Castiel said without shame. He was young and hadn’t travelled far except to the fields of battle, and the elves had never crossed blades with the men of Winchester.  His youth was partially the reason Uriel was his second, his age almost matched that of Lord Edlund, though his skin was as young as Castiel’s and his eyes were bright with the zest of youth.  There wasn’t much of the world that Uriel had not seen, and through his experiences the garrison was free to move to far-off lands in an instant. “We will follow your lead.”

Uriel nodded once.  “Let us hope the castle town has not grown much.”  Uriel raised his hand high so the members of the garrison could focus on him, trusting that he would lead them to the Winchester’s castle.

A thin, blacker-than-black crack appeared in the air, hovering a few feet in front of Uriel.  The magic absorbed the light around it, making the darkening forest even duller, pulling colors into its void and leaving the world in shades of gray.  Castiel held his breath as he moved forward, the entire garrison perfectly in time with one another as they, one after another, moved close enough to the spell to be sucked into the directionless, timeless folds of the universe.

Castiel heard the messenger boy cry out in fright as darkness swallowed them but didn’t fret over his well-being, Anna would care for him as they passed through the folds.  An icy chill began to work its way into Castiel’s bones, and it was only the movement of the young general’s feet as he ran that kept his body from freezing over. A flash of light passed by, it was orange and warm and Castiel guessed that it was firelight.  The flash gave him a still-frame impression of Uriel as he pulled the garrison through the stifling dark on an invisible tendril of magic that Castiel could feel leading him in the right direction.

Castiel’s feet hit the ground and he smoothly stepped forward, catching his weight as he was thrust back into being.  He noticed the small messenger boy fall forward until he was caught by Anna just before landing upon the earth. Castiel turned and briefly examined the garrison, nodding to himself when he saw they were all there and in one piece.

“Let’s go.”  Castiel said, dropping his extra pack on the soft ground.  The general turned toward the pinpricks of light some distance from them that Castiel knew was the Winchester castle and surrounding town.  Anna followed him, lifting the human boy into her arms, along with Uriel and three of the garrison’s best fighters.

Castiel heard the human boy cry out again as they ran, and he felt some small humor at his fear.  Humans couldn’t run like elves could; the fastest of the elven sprinters could all but make themselves disappear with speed.  It took them only a few moments to reach the barred gates of the castle itself, though they had come out of the folds of the universe half a league from the castle.  The guards stationed on the walls above them let out yelps at the sudden arrival of the elves and one began blowing a horn to alert the castle’s inhabitants.

The human boy wriggled loose from Anna’s grip and began yelling to his kin in their coarse, grunting language, first identifying himself and then the elves as guests from the forest.  There was a short amount of clamoring from the inside of the gate before a small door hidden in an alcove opened and several soldiers poured from the stone, all with long pikes pointed at the elves as the humans surrounded Castiel and his soldiers.  

The human men were crouched slightly, but Castiel knew even if they were standing tall, they would barely come up to his breast.  It made the human’s formation seem weak, they looked like children, after all. Even Anna, as short as she was, was a full head and shoulders taller than the human men.

Castiel had to stamp down the urge to bar his teeth at them, such aggression wasn’t warranted against the fragile soldiers; they were just following protocol.  A man Castiel supposed was the guards’ superior stepped from the door and asked the messenger boy several questions. The boy pulled a small scroll from his tunic and handed it to the commander.  

Castiel tilted his head at the man as his eyes passed over the words, incredulous.  The man’s eyes were moving up and down on the paper instead of side to side as Castiel knew the human’s written language was suppose to be read.  The castle’s foremost security was compromised by a commander who only pretended he could read. It was a good thing Castiel and his soldiers weren’t here to take over the castle and surrounding town, he had no doubt in his mind that the six elves could do it without needing to call for aide from the rest of the garrison.

“Follow me.”  The commander said in his grunting human words after rolling up the scroll.  Castiel followed the human through the small door, passing through the tiny stone passage that Castiel had to crouch to get through.  Anna followed closely behind him, he could hear her light breathing as they finally passed into the castle courtyard. The guard gave the boy an order and sent him running into the main body of the castle, Castiel’s eyes automatically swept the area as he followed the commander into the castle.  The quiet party passed through a large hallway and into a small throne room.

The elves only waited for a few short minutes, Castiel spent his time eyeing the decor, the plain throne on a raised section of floor, and the sentries stationed every ten feet.  A door behind the throne boomed open and a tall sentry that was withering with age called out an announcement.

“All hail the Prince of Winchester, The Boy King, Sam the Brave!”

The guards around the room let loose a unanimous ‘hail!’ and a boy not much older than the human’s messenger stepped quickly into the throne room.  Castiel’s eyes roamed over the boy’s bedhead, bare feet, and the night coat that ill-concealed his pajamas before pressing the palm of his right hand to his breast and inclining his head slightly at the human’s young leader.  Castiel didn’t think it disrespectful to not hail the boy, he wasn’t Castiel’s ruler, after all.

Uriel stepped forward, turning his body to Castiel’s to introduce the general to the humans in the language they would understand.  “This is Castiel the Clever, the Youngest and Brightest General in the history of our race, and Leader of the Five Armies of the North Forest.”  Castiel held his head high, flushing slightly at the ridiculous titles Uriel insisted on introducing him with.

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Clever Castiel.”  The Boy King said, bowing his head at the elves more deeply than Castiel had to him.  “We are deeply in your debt for heeding my father’s call, courageous ones.”

Castiel adopted the human’s grunting speech.  “It is not your debt but ours that brings us to your land, your father and kinsmen do the free world a great service by keeping the inferno from terrorizing the world.  We are ready to do as your father requested and retrieve Prince Dean from his captors. If you tell us where he is being held, we will be off at once.”

The small leader nodded, descended the steps so he was on the same level as the elves, and beckoned Castiel to a table fixed with a map and miniature battalions on its surface.  Castiel drew close with Uriel at his side.

“My father is here.”  He said, pointing out a group of figurines at the center of the border between Winchester and Inferno.  “Dean was several leagues Southeast, protecting the border here. His men are still there, camped on the foothills of the mountain, guarding the passage into our neighbors to the East, Harvelle.  His second has assumed command until Dean’s return, his name is Singer, he’ll be able to tell you where Dean might be.”

“Might be?”  Castiel raised an eyebrow at the Boy King’s choice of words.

“Prince Dean’s company followed the monsters as they took my brother into the Infernal Lands, for several days they fought to get him back.  But they are just men, and they were forced to turn back, else the entire company be slaughtered.” Castiel heard the hopeless tone in the Boy King’s voice, and when he looked up from the miniature battlefield, the boy looked very young and disheartened indeed.

Castiel placed a hand lightly on the young boy’s shoulder, thinking the Boy King must be carrying the weight of the entire kingdom on them.  “Princeling, may I ask a personal query?”

Prince Sam blinked in surprise.  “Oh, um, that’s fine.”

“How many seasons are you?”  Castiel hoped the question wasn’t too forward, the grunting language of man left little room for the courtesy of the elves.

“I will be fifteen at the first sowing of the summer crop.”

“And you are leading your kingdom in your father and brother’s absence, and doing a fine job at it.”  Castiel watched the flicker of surprise cross the boy king’s face at Castiel’s praise. “You have my highest regard, Prince Sam.  We will do everything we can to get your brother back.”

The boy king blinked his wide eyes once, twice, three times before finding his voice again.  “You have my thanks, master elf.”

Castiel knew the human term ‘master’ meant a term of respect, not a leader or Lord like it did in his native tongue, but it was still odd to hear such a title used on him.  Castiel gave the boy a tight smile and a light squeeze on the shoulder before announcing they should be off.

“Uriel, you know of this mountain pass?”

“Yes, Castiel, I have been there.”

“Then let us meet the Inferno for ourselves.”

 

Castiel had seen the Infernal Lands only once.  He had been a young foot soldier at the time, in the last great battle to seal the fallen ones.  Nearly 500 years had passed since then, and Castiel wasn’t looking forward to once again seeing the desolate, fiery wilds of Inferno again.  He put away his uneasy feelings as he was thrown out of the darkness of Uriel's magic and into the light dusting of snow that covered the mountain pass.  Castiel readied his sword and heard the members of the garrison following his lead.

He could just barely make out the flickering light of a campfire halfway up the mountain pass, but he turned his back to it.  A group of soldiers wouldn’t be able to protect anything from such a position. Castiel figured it was a distraction for the infernal monsters, the pass surely dropped before anything could reach the campfire and would kill anything that marched for it.

“This way.”  Castiel commanded in his native tongue, leading the way towards the hazy red horizon that marked the badlands of Inferno.

Castiel’s garrison moved silently through the pitch black of night, the line spread wide at Castiel’s command so they could cover a larger distance as they searched for the lost prince’s company.  A terrified scream to Castiel’s left pierced the night, and Castiel took off at a run that made the lines of his body streak a bit with his speed. Though Castiel was a fast sprinter, the pack on his back slowed him considerably, making him the last of the garrison to reach the source of the screaming.  The soldiers made a path so Castiel could stand beside Uriel, the rest of the garrison gathered around a cowering human soldier as he shrieked on the cold ground, his weapon lying in the snow next to him, forgotten.

“I swear I didn’t hurt him, general, I just touched his shoulder.”  One of Castiel’s warriors said, looking almost as distressed at the man’s screams as the man making the ear-splitting noise.

Castiel sheathed his sword and pressed the palm of his hand against the human’s mouth and nose, effectively silencing his pathetic shrieks.  “We mean you no harm, boy.” Castiel said, his voice grunting in the unappealing dialect of man. “We are elves of the North forest, answering the call of King John of Winchester.  Do not scream again.”

The soldier calmed after a few moments and nodded his head slightly, and after a moment more Castiel released his face.  The human dragged a deep rush of air into his lungs, choking and spluttering over his lack of air. Castiel stood straight and tried not to feel remorse, he’d forgotten that humans can’t hold their breath as easily or as long as elves can.  Once the soldier stopped heaving for air, Castiel continued.

“We are looking for your commander.  Singer. You will lead us to him.”

The soldier stammered out a yes and the elves followed the human through the underbrush at an aggravatingly slow pace.

 

Prince Dean’s men had set up camp around an abandoned farm house, though why any farmer would want to build a homestead so close to the Infernal Lands was beyond Castiel’s understanding.  Human sentries eyed the group of elves with a mix of fascination and distrust while they waited at the edge of the human’s camp for their commander.

Singer was an older man with a short beard and smile lines, though his face was hardened by a stoic mask as he greeted the elves.  

“We are truly grateful for your help, master elf.”  Singer outright bowed to Castiel and the rest of the elves when he learned of their business at the Winchester-Inferno border.  Castiel shifted uncomfortably as the other human soldiers followed their commanders lead and bowed.

“Where is the prince?”  Castiel grunted in the human’s tongue.  Singer finally straightened his back and lead Castiel and Uriel to the one-room farmhouse.  Castiel looked around once inside; the humans had given the stone walls a new roof and were using the building as a command center.  A table stood in the center of the small space, with a map on its surface and more figurines placed along the border of Winchester. A small fire burning in a low fireplace was the only source of light in the tiny stone room.

“We followed them here, just inside the badlands.”  Singer said, touching a point on the mostly blank side of the map’s border.  “We were ambushed and had to turn back.”

“When did this happen?”  Uriel asked.

“Four nights ago.”  Singer said, eyes downcast.  “I cannot lie, though I am pleased you lot have answered King John’s plea, I have poor confidence that the Prince has lasted such a length of time in the inferno.  The monsters that took him were-” Singer hesitated, his eyes unfocused as if watching a memory. Castiel clenched his jaw watching the human’s emotions play out on his face.  “They were horrible.” Singer choked out.

“We will leave at once, human.”  Castiel said, wishing the indelicate language held room for softness of voice or empathy in tone.  “If he is alive when we find him, I can promise you we can speed his recovery and he will be whole again.”

Singer looked at the general like he had never heard such a far-fetched oath in all his life.  “I’d love to believe that, master elf. I wish you and your men the best.”

Castiel bristled a bit at the use of the word ‘men,’ seeing as how there were plenty powerful and fierce female soldiers in his garrison, but nonetheless he thanked the human and asked Singer to watch over his pack until they returned with the prince.  Singer accepted, though he struggled greatly and nearly hurt himself placing the pack in the corner of the small house.

The general frowned, though the pack slowed him down while running enough that he was the slowest in the garrison with it on, Castiel could easily lift the pack with one arm.  _Humans are much weaker creatures than I thought_ , he mused.  Castiel couldn’t help but worry how the human prince was faring, what with how weak of body his commander was, and how weak of mind the human they had scared into fits in the valley had been.

“Have you ever ventured into the Inferno before, Uriel?”  Castiel asked as they returned to the garrison.

“I was a commander in the last great infernal war.”  Uriel said, referring to the only other time Castiel had looked upon the Infernal Lands, when the fallen ones had been defeated and cast into the pits of the earth by the elves.  Castiel’s second’s voice took up a hard edge. “But I cannot recommend folding the universe to pass into the infernal lands, Castiel.” Uriel’s expression was fierce, willing his general to understand him.  “The risk would be too great. I do not want to lose any of our kin in an attempt to get the prince out quicker.”

“I understand Uriel.”  Castiel said, not wanting to be chastised by his elder.  He knew perfectly well that travelling through the folds of the universe, which was done by bending space and time, was one of the most dangerous forms of magic.  It should never be done if there is the slightest chance that anything could hinder exiting back into the world, else the garrison be lost in the darkness forever.  That is why an elf must only travel to places he or she had once stood, so there could be a clear mental picture of where the spellcaster wanted the spell to take them.  Castiel waited until Uriel calmed a bit before continuing. “I ask because, though I was a foot soldier in the last battle, I was young and very new to the army. I was stationed in Harvelle, the kingdom East of Winchester, and my battalion never ventured far into the inferno.”

“Did you pass through the badlands?”  Uriel asked.

“We skirted around them only.”

“There must have been many younglings in your group, if you did not even properly see the badlands.”  Uriel commented. The two stood in the center of the garrison with their soldiers surrounding them, the fierce-eyed soldiers awaiting their orders.

“It was a desperate time.”  Castiel replied. “The use of younglings in battle was a tragic necessity.”  Uriel nodded, eyes far-away as he remembered just how desperate the five armies had been in order to justify the use of elven children in battle.

“I will rely heavily on your knowledge of the Infernal Lands, Uriel.”  Castiel said, drawing his second’s attention back to the present. “If you observe me making a call that should not be made, I ask you to share your knowledge with me.  I will not see it as insubordination on this mission.”

Uriel raised his chin, a sign of respect among the elves.  “It takes a humble and strong commander to act as you are, Castiel.  When you leave the army for your own travels, the elves will lose the greatest general we have ever had.  It will be my honor to share my knowledge with you, together we will surely return home with the prince alive and the garrison untarnished.”  Uriel turned and raised his voice so the whole of the garrison could hear.

“It is my honor to follow General Castiel!”  Uriel punched the air.

The elves mimicked Uriel, all throwing fists to the heavens and shouting Castiel’s name in unison.  Castiel smiled despite himself and rolled his eyes while Uriel did what he does best and stoked blazing fires in the hearts of the garrison.  He could only imagine what the humans thought of the normally stoic elves as they shouted and filled the night with their battle cries.

“To the inferno!”  Uriel shouted to cries of confirmation from the soldiers.  “Into formation!” The garrison formed into a tight eye shape, with Castiel and Uriel at the center.

“Forward!”  Castiel cried out, heart pounding as he leaned forward and set off at a run with his soldiers.  The elves ran silently in the cool night air, passing the border into the Infernal Lands a short time after midnight.

 

The garrison spent a few well-deserved moments resting atop a solid-looking piece of stone while their trackers scouted out a trail.  The elves had easily found the path Singer and his men had followed their prince’s captors, it led the elves nearly half a league into the Inferno’s badlands.  Following the trail of nearly sixty humans had been simple, but when they had reached the place the prince’s men had been forced to turn back the trail had become nearly impossible to follow.  

Castiel was impressed that the humans made it as far as they had.  The badlands were unpredictable; the ground between the massive boulders would split to spew fire and magma from the center of the world.  Already one of the garrison had been injured, taken by surprise as the ground beneath his feet had fallen away and fire filled the air around him.  The soldier would have been lost to them forever if the elf behind him hadn’t caught the back of his armor and pulled him from falling into the pit of fire just in time.  Anna was the best in the garrison at healing spells, and was currently soothing the soldier’s scorched skin as they waited.

“General, the tracker returns.”  Uriel said, looking out at the blazing fields.  Castiel followed his gaze and saw the three elves.  Their tracker, Dina, and two guards they had sent with her were carefully making their way back to the garrison.

“Anna, how much longer do you need?”  Castiel asked quietly, kneeling beside the injured elf.

“Not long, General.”  Anna replied before filling the air once again with her song of healing, her voice hushed so as not to attract any infernal beasts.

Castiel stood again, watching Dina’s progress as he let his soldier’s rest and clean the blood from their armor and swords.  They had met several monsters in the short time they had been in Infernal territory, a small group had tried to ambush a scouting party Castiel had sent ahead.  The small group of scouts had fought valiantly, guarding their kinsmen’s backs until the garrison came to reinforce them. The clamor of the short but violent scuffle had attracted every lone beast for a league.  Though now, in the silence of the badlands that was only disturbed by the roaring of fire pits, any infernal beasts that had heard the scuffle and still lived was hopefully far behind.

The tracker had returned, she climbed the side of the stone with her guards and reported to Castiel.  “General.” She said with a salute that Castiel returned. “We found something, there’s a settlement on a plateau up ahead, two leagues deeper into the badlands.”

“A settlement?”  Castiel asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.  “But infernal beasts don’t sleep, and there’s no food to be found anywhere for several leagues, why would they make a settlement?”  The general looked to his second, who had no information or explanation to offer him.

“There was a shelter, and several beasts moving around.  General,” Dina looked at him with wide eyes. “They looked like they had a- a system to their movements.  Like they were guarding a perimeter. And there was a man with them.”

“The prince?”  Castiel guessed without much hope.

“I think not, sir.  He didn’t speak the language of the humans.  I’ve never heard such a strange language before.”

Castiel glanced at Uriel, who looked just as concerned as the general felt.  “Show me.” Castiel said, raising a hand to the tracker’s forehead. He waited until she nodded her consent before he touched her skin with two fingertips.

Castiel closed his eyes as a rush of feelings and sensory input bombarded him.  Through Dina’s memories, he looked through her eyes and could see the two guards crouched behind a boulder beside him.  All three were silent, looking down from their position atop something Castiel couldn’t see, watching the infernal beasts marching the edge of a large, raised platform of a gigantic rock.  The infernal beasts were just as Castiel expected; human-like with glowing eyes, sharp teeth, growling, and occasionally shrieking like wounded animals. Castiel’s eyes flicked without his permission, (he _was_ merely observing a memory, he had no motor control) to the only structure on the platform besides the natural formation of the rock.  A line of yellow light split the rock’s plateau as the door to the shack opened, spilling smoke from the inside. Castiel watched with growing apprehension as a man stepped out of the shack.

Castiel knew at once that this man was not one of the infernal beasts.  Though he looked similar, his gait was absent of the usual lurching that marked the monsters of the Infernal Lands for what they were.  Castiel saw no red glow in his eyes, and when the man spoke to himself it wasn’t a grunt or a snarl, it was in the tilting, odd cadence of the old language.

 _“What a beautiful night.”_  The man said to himself, and Castiel struggled to translate the dead language that he’d only learned out of necessity under Lord Edlund’s tutelage.  Castiel watched as the man paced and fanned his arms above his head, letting them hang in the air. “ _What a shame to be wasting it following her orders.”_  Castiel tried to think of the ‘her’ the man was referring to, but couldn’t think of anyone specific.

The guard to the tracker’s left gripped her shoulder and whispered in her ear.  “ _We should leave now, Dina.  That is no ordinary infernal beast.  It is as General Castiel predicted.”_  Castiel’s eyes turned to the elf that spoke and saw that his face was a mask of fear.

“ _You are right.”_  Castiel felt his lips move as Dina whispered.  The memory became blurred and dark until Castiel was once again in his own body, standing atop a boulder in the middle of the badlands with his garrison watching him anxiously.

“Uriel.”  Castiel said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the hammering of his heart under his breastplate.  “Uriel, it is one of the fallen ones.”

“How do you know, General?”

“He was speaking the old language.”

Uriel swore under his breath, and it was all Castiel could do to keep his hands from shaking.  In the years since the beginning of the first Great Infernal War, the fallen ones had become something of a scary story elves told their children.  In fact, Castiel had grown up listening to tales of great elven warriors meeting their doom at the hands of these creatures. Their powers matched the greatest of the elven spellcasters and their fighting ability was legendary.  For nearly a century they ravaged the world of men, until the elves left their homes in the trees and formed the five armies. The war raged on and off for nearly two hundred years, and was the reason the elves had become a race with so few members.  Castiel was grateful he had only been alive for the last of it.

Uriel touched the tracker’s forehead, bowing his head to experience the memory and Castiel watched his face and waited.  He could see his soldiers eyeing each other warily, the apprehension in the air was becoming more palpable by the second.  Castiel bit his lip, suddenly the rescue mission didn’t seem so simple. If a fallen one was present, he would be capable of taking down several soldiers before the garrison could finish him.

Uriel lifted his face and let out a shaky breath.  “You are not mistaken, General. He is indeed a fallen one, I have faced him before in battle.  His name is Alastair, and he is fierce indeed.” Uriel turned toward Castiel, who had to focus to keep a poker face upon hearing the name his second uttered.  It would not do for Castiel to look afraid now, in front of the men he was about to ask to face a fallen one. “He has only one weakness that I know of,” Uriel continued, “he is not as skilled a fighter as his fellows.  But he is an adept spellcaster, better still than Michael, who he nearly killed in the last battle. It was only the saving grace of Lucifer that Michael breathes today.”

Castiel knew well the story of how Lucifer saved his brother on the battlefield, nearly killing himself in his desperation to destroy the fallen one.  “I thought Lucifer killed the one who bested Michael.” Castiel’s voice was a whisper.

Uriel shook his head.  “No, general, though Lucifer’s sword struck the creature’s chest and speared him all the way through the back, the fallen one let loose a wave of energy that threw Lucifer from him, and the fallen one lived.  He was weakened, though, and our army cast him into the pit with the others.”

Castiel nodded, eyes pointed at the heavens.

After the general had been silent for several moments, Uriel asked; “Do you mean to fight him, Castiel?”

Castiel wondered if this would be a course of action that his second would feel he needed to step in and use his knowledge to sway the general from his current path.  

“I do, Uriel.”

“Then let us undertake this duty together.”  Uriel held up a hand, waiting for Castiel’s permission before touching his face.  The general smiled tightly and placed his fingertips on Uriel’s temple, and as he felt Uriel’s finger’s touch his head, their minds met and the two were able to use their combined knowledge to form their own design.

The garrison waited patiently, their eyes cast away from the private moment of their leaders into the swell and decline of the badlands.  Each eruption of fire made their muscles tense. Each breath came out in a pant as the heat from the fires attempted to cook their flesh in their armor.  And every timid breeze made them sigh and yearn to be finished with this mission and return home to the trees and coolness of the North forest. A deep chuckle from the center of the group nearly made a few of their more high-strung members jump out of their skins.

“That is truly ingenious, Castiel.”  Uriel’s voice was laden with less worry than before the joining of their minds, and he chuckled again at Castiel’s sly smile.

“What say you, Uriel?” Castiel asked.

Uriel nodded and hit his breast with his fist in a salute to the general.  “I will follow you anywhere, sir.”

 

The rescue of Prince Dean started off well enough.  The elves scaled the rock sides of the infernal settlement and pulled the sentries from their rotation along the edge of the rock.  A partner then stuck their silver daggers through the monster’s heart and the elves let the beasts fall to the fiery pits below. The first step was performed silently and flawlessly, Castiel and the others clambered over the edge of the settlement without detection.

At the general’s signal, the elves began closing in on the shack, occasionally beheading or striking a monster through the heart.  This too was done silently, the elves had cleared the ridge and surrounded the shack without detection.

Castiel was just about to give the signal for a group of his best fighters to place themselves outside the door when the fallen one strolled out into the night.  Alastair was bathed in light and surrounded by smoke as he stepped into the circle of elves.

If the fallen one was surprised to find his monsters slain and standing fifty-to-one against battle-hardened elves, he didn’t show it.  Alastair calmly kicked closed the door to the shack, his eyes immediately found Castiel and the general was shocked to see they were a pale, slightly glowing white.

“Well, well.  If it isn’t General Castiel.”  Alastair said in the old language, making Castiel think quickly to translate.

“How do you know my name?”  The general asked, his voice remained impressively calm despite being taunted _by_ _name_ by a fallen one.

“Your man stood on that ledge.”  The fallen one turned slightly to point at a high cliff to his left, and Castiel recognised it from the memory of his tracker.  “He spotted me and said ‘it is as General Castiel predicted.’ Did you foresee my return, little elf? That is most impressive, as I am the first of my kind to act against the world.”

Castiel didn’t reply.  In truth, his blood had run cold.  This fallen one knew they were coming and had chosen not to flee or even warn his guarding beasts of their arrival.  Alastair wasn’t threatened in the slightest by the garrison. Castiel sent a silent prayer to the gods of the next realm, asking for forgiveness for leading his soldiers to their deaths.

Uriel shifted closer to the general, and the fallen one’s ghostly white eyes switched to him.  “Uriel.” Alastair said in an icy cold voice, Castiel heard his second’s breath catch at the sound of his name.  “I remember you. You were the one who threw me in the pit.” Castiel translated quickly while the fallen one threw his head back in a bone-chilling laugh.  “I will repay you tenfold, elf! I have had centuries to ponder this moment, and I have something special with which to strike you down.”

The fallen one hadn’t moved more than a finger when Castiel gave the signal.  His soldier’s followed the plan flawlessly, though the circumstances had changed slightly.  Castiel would have liked to think that it would have been easy to fight Alastair, the infernal man was the height of a human man, giving the elves a height and reach advantage.  However, Alastair fought off several swings of the elves’ swords with ease, despite having no weapons to fight with, then jumped to the support beam at the top of the shack and lifted his hand towards Uriel.

The dark bolt of magic shot through the air too fast for Uriel to dodge or their spellcasters to block.  A strangled cry escaped the elf’s lips as the fallen one’s magic struck him square in the chest and threw him across the rock shelf.  A single soldier, their tracker Dina, was fast enough to grab him before he could slide off the edge, she pulled Uriel back over the ledge by his breastplate.  As Uriel scrambled to his feet Castiel saw a strange red glow light up Dina’s face before Uriel rewarded his rescuer by shoving his dagger through her throat.

Castiel’s heart cried out as Dina fell to the dirt, choked for a second, then moved no more.  Uriel stood and ducked behind his shield, pulling Dina’s sword from her slack hand. He advanced on the closest elven soldier and let loose a haunting war-cry that effectively silenced the whole of the badlands except for the fallen one, who let out a wild and mad cackle from atop the shack.  

Uriel’s eyes had turned blood red and glowed brightly enough to light the ground in front of him.  Castiel’s friend roared again as he charged forward and attacked his brethren.

At first, Castiel thought Uriel had been put under a type of mind control, like in the stories of the fallen ones he’d been told as a child.  However, he quickly dismissed the notion as he saw the look of fear on Uriel’s face. The general began shouting orders quickly, Uriel was not to be harmed, only subdued, and left the fate of one fifth of his garrison to their own cunning before turning back to Alastair.

Castiel led the attack, one long jump took him and two of his soldiers to the top of the shack beside Alastair.  The general exchanged only a few blows with the infernal man before Alastair retreated. His form blurred with speed as he dodged the garrison’s blows, he found a new place to make a stand atop a steep-sided rock, where he would have the high ground.

The elves were pushed to their limits by Alastair, though with Castiel’s leadership the fallen one managed to lose an arm above the elbow and was run through at the hip.  The elf that skewered him lost his sword to their enemy, and quickly retreated to the back of the formation before Alastair could retaliate. The fallen one screamed as he pried the sword out, and Castiel could hear the slide of bone against metal as the sword came free.

“Come here, little general.”  Alastair taunted, now speaking in the tongue of the elves and swinging the borrowed sword through the air, sending dark gray flecks of blood flying.  “Come and face me, elf to demon.”

Castiel hesitated, then sidled forward with his shield raised and his sword at the ready.  “What did you call yourself?” Castiel called out, looking for an opening.

“Your silly, trilling language does not have a word for what I am, elfling.”  Alastair said, moving his feet in perfect time with Castiel’s. “But in the old language, the first language, they call my kind demons.  I don’t think that’s very kind, myself.”

“Demon.”  The ancient word felt heavy on Castiel’s tongue.

“That’s right.”  Alastair smiled wickedly.  “Did your elders teach you to fear me, youngling?”  Alastair threw himself forward, bearing the sword down over Castiel’s head.  Even though the elf was strong of arm, the blow very nearly brought Castiel to his knees.  Castiel quickly threw the demon’s blade aside and attacked. The two battled savagely, striking and blocking and moving in a series of quick combinations that flowed as smoothly as the most practiced of dances.  Though the demon had lost a hand, his blows were swift and his eyes sure, he moved without regard to the wound to his hip, though it would have been a mortal blow to any man or elf.

The general was one of the best fighters in all of the five armies, the only time Castiel had lost in the last hundred years was to Lucifer, and Castiel now found some comfort in the knowledge that Lucifer had once beaten this demon.

After several minutes, Castiel began striking more than blocking, and Alastair was losing ground quickly to the general’s ferocious attacks.  As if sensing he wouldn’t last much longer, the demon abandoned the sword to free his hand for magic. Alastair threw his sword at Castiel, the attack was unexpected and he barely managed to get his shield up in time.  The force of the sword striking his shield dented the thick metal, pinning Castiel’s arm into the curve of the shield.

The first shot of magic was bright red, it was blocked by the garrison’s spellcasters and dissipated before it could tear the general in two.  Castiel blocked the second and began quickly chanting his own spell, imbuing his blade with crackling lightning as he continued to strike at the demon.  Castiel’s soldiers attacked with him, wave after wave of elvish speed and strength beat into the body of Alastair, along with spells that bound his legs together or clamped his jaw shut for a short moment until the demon overpowered the spell.  It was a spell that bound Alastair’s eyes shut that gave Castiel the opening he needed.

The general struck the fallen one with his shield and after he was sprawled on the dirt, Castiel lunged, aiming the tip of his sword at Alastair’s heart.

Castiel’s blade pierced the demon in the heart, the lightning in the weapon’s core spread throughout his body and cooked the demon from within.  Horrid screams filled the air, wrenched from the demon’s burning throat as the pale white light faded from the demon’s eyes. Castiel withdrew his sword and retreated a few steps, his weapon held at the ready and another spell on the tip of his tongue should the demon continue living.  The garrison waited with baited breath, but the demon moved no more.

A short hurrah was cried out by the elves as Castiel turned to return to his second.  Uriel was under a pile of nine soldiers, though seemed to be at no risk of being crushed, the soldiers kept being thrown off the elf only to bear down on his limbs once more.  A tenth elf was crouched above his head, her hands caressing the elf’s temples and a song of undoing on her lips.

Castiel gently asked her to step aside, and as he knelt above his friend he felt the garrison’s spellcasters gather around and place their hands upon his shoulders, ready to help him return Uriel’s sanity.  Castiel’s face was lit with the red light from his second’s eyes, and he could see its glow when he closed his eyes and entered Uriel’s mind.

Uriel’s mind was not as it once was.  Fear and unsubdued rage burned any coherent thought from the mind of the wise elf.  Castiel could see as Uriel could see, and instead of elves binding his limbs and touching his temples, Castiel only saw a band of infernal monsters tearing into Uriel’s flesh as he tried desperately to shake and strike them off.  Though the elven soldiers were doing nothing more damaging than putting their weight on their commanders limbs, Uriel could feel the monsters from his vision sinking their teeth and claws into his flesh.

Castiel searched his memories for a tale of such a sickness from the infernal war, but as Alastair promised, nothing matched what Castiel was seeing in the mind of his second.

Still, Castiel did not give up hope.  He had to move slowly, undoing one wrong at a time so that Uriel’s mind would not be lost forever.  Castiel knelt on the hard ground for over an hour, and slowly, slowly, Uriel stopped fighting his kin and his fear left him.  Once Castiel murmured his final spell, the light from Uriel’s eyes dimmed, and Castiel opened his eyes to look down at his friend.

The glowing redness dimmed slowly, and after almost half a minute of baited breath, Uriel blinked several times and his eyes were back to their normal dark color.  Uriel shook his head and groaned deeply, his voice nearly gone from his screaming.

“What happened to me?”

“Your mind was turned against you, but I think you’ll be alright now, my friend.”  Castiel motioned for Uriel to be released, and the general moved to kneel beside his second as he sat up.

“Why don’t I remember?”  Uriel said with a hand to his head, and Castiel frowned.

“I don’t know, Uriel.  I didn’t take your memories from you, I would never do that without your permission.”

“Peace, peace.”  The elf chided, finally raising his eyes and focusing on Castiel’s face.  “I believe you. Thank you for saving me from whatever the fallen one did to me.”  The two exchanged a small smile before the first keening song of mourning filled the air.

Uriel’s breath caught.  “Who has fallen, general?”

Castiel sighed and looked on his friend with anguish.  “It is Dina, daughter of Draco and Thelma.”

“How was she slain?”  Uriel waited, barely breathing while Castiel hesitated.

“She was cut down by your sword while you were under Alastair’s spell.”

A moment of shocked silence was followed by a wordless, scratchy scream.  The air filled with painful howls as Uriel rushed to the fallen elf and clasped her slack hand.  The hysterical elf’s cries to the gods to strike him down went unnoticed by any higher powers, and several members of the garrison tried to simultaneously comfort and quiet the distraught elf.

Castiel wiped several tears from his face as he turned to Anna.  “Ready the garrison and prepare the body.” Anna nodded and began quietly giving orders as Castiel turned to the shack.

Two of Castiel’s soldiers stood inside the open door, watching as a third bent over the still, naked form of the human prince as the spellcaster stitched his flayed-open skin together with magic.  Castiel could barely believe the amount of blood that was splashed across the walls and soaked into the dirt of the shack. It was far too much for one human.

“He was hanging by those hooks.”  One of the standing elves said softly, pointing out a pair of iron spikes sticking out of the brick wall.  “Most of his skin was in a pile in the corner.” Castiel glanced at a particularly wet patch of blood the soldier pointed out.

“The fallen one must have been using magic to keep him alive, general.”  The second elf whispered, and Castiel noticed that both soldier’s eyes were wide and unblinking, their faces a ghostly pale.

“Thank you both.”  Castiel said, worrying over their blood pressure.  “Why don’t you two step outside, get some fresh air.”  As if fresh air could be found in the badlands of the inferno.

The pair didn’t need to be told twice, they nearly tripped over themselves and each other in their haste to leave.  Castiel crossed the small room and knelt beside the spellcaster, helping her as she pieced the skin from the human’s shoulders back into place.

“He will probably need his memories taken from him, sir.”  The spellcaster said quietly. “I had to make him sleep just so he would stop attacking us, even before we got him off the hooks he managed to knock out Faerly.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows as the last piece of skin was melded into place, for a human to strike an elf unconscious was an impressive feat, especially when the human in question was gravely injured and strung up on hooks.

“We will see how he fares.”  Castiel said, gripping the human’s elbow.  “It could have been a reaction caused by shock or pain.  Let him sleep for now.” Castiel helped the spellcaster turn the prince onto his back, and Castiel was pleasantly surprised at what he saw.

The prince’s tanned skin was pulled tight over his cheekbones and jaw, with freckles standing out over the ridge of his nose and sculpted chest.  His arms were heavily muscled, though he looked like he had reached manhood only a few years prior, and his shoulders were broad and proud. The most pleasing thing about the prince, in Castiel’s eyes, was his soft expression, the human’s lips were light pink and pulled into the slightest of smiles, as if he were reliving a fond memory.

Castiel felt suddenly self-conscious as he noticed the spellcaster watching him as he smiled fondly at the sleeping human prince.  “Give the prince some decency and prepare him to leave, I’ll send your guards back inside to carry him.” At the doorway, Castiel took one last look at the human prince before turning and ordering the blood-shocked elves back inside to help the spellcaster.  

“Faerly, let me look at your face.”  One of the guards stopped and removed his helm, allowing Castiel to see a dark bruise on his left temple, courtesy of the human prince.

“Didn’t duck fast enough, sir.”  Faerly said with a smile.

“Better luck next time.”  Castiel said, mirroring his soldier’s grin with a small smile of his own.

 

Uriel was still distraught when Castiel pulled him to his feet by the front of his breastplate.  The general pressed their forehead together, holding Uriel tight as the elf scrambled to wrap his arms around Castiel’s shoulders.

“It is not your fault, brother.”  Castiel said firmly, opening his eyes a little as his friend nodded.

“I will never move past this, Castiel.”  Uriel moaned, burying his face into Castiel’s shoulder plates and letting tears flow freely.

“Do you want me to go with you to Lord Edlund?”

“No, no.”  Uriel seemed to gasp for breath as he raised his face to look at the general.  “I did this, I should face him and Dina’s family alone.”

Castiel gripped the elf tightly.  “You are a good elf, Uriel, and your actions were not your own.  Do not let this be your last act.”

“I hear you.”  Uriel whispered, holding Castiel tightly to his chest.

“We are ready, general.”  Anna’s voice said from directly behind Castiel.  The two elves broke their embrace, Castiel placed a couple firm pats on Uriel’s chest before turning to Anna and thanking her.

“What of the demon?”  Castiel inquired as he made his way to his garrison.

“The body has been burned, sir.  Nothing is left but ash and crumbling bones.”

Castiel looked in the direction Anna gestured, spying a rib cage among the red-hot embers of a dying fire before turning back to his soldiers.

Castiel looked into their faces for a long moment before raising his hand, letting them focus on him, and opening the folds of the universe.  Castiel ran hard and focused through the inky nothingness, pulling the garrison behind him as the light from the fires of the badlands burned their retinas at inconsistent intervals.  Castiel only relaxed when his feet hit the ground outside of the human’s camp below the mountain pass. The general turned and counted his soldiers, only turning and taking the Prince’s limp form from Faerly once he had counted each of the elves in his charge.

Singer was a trembling, emotional mess when he saw Castiel carrying his Prince through the camp to the prince’s tent.

“Dean!  Dean!” He cried out, holding the prince’s hand.  “Say not that he has fallen, master elf!”

“Your prince lives, human Singer.”  Castiel said in their grunting dialect as he ducked into the prince’s tent and waited for the young handmaiden to turn down the bed.

“But he is so still!”  Singer’s hands hadn’t left the prince’s face since Castiel had stopped walking.

“He sleeps by the magic of my spellcaster, he attacked my soldiers in a blind rage.”  Castiel moved past Singer and slipped the prince into his bed.

“When will he wake up?”  Singer’s voice hinted toward madness.

“When he wakes up, of course.”  Castiel pushed past the flap of the tent and muttered to himself in his native tongue as he moved to rejoin his kin.

The second song of lamentation had just ended when a human sentry shouted at the gathering of forest folk.  “Castiel! Castiel! The prince is not as you promised! He has lost his mind and is attacking his own people!”  Castiel gritted his teeth at the interruption, placing his first two fingertips on Dina’s forehead to complete the second song before turning once again to take care of the human prince.

It was not for nothing the humans called for his help, though.  When Castiel returned to the prince’s tent it was no more than a pile of tarps, rope, and sticks thrown over the bed frame Castiel had left the prince in.  The sentry led the general to the command building and all but pushed the elf through the door.

Singer was the only human with the guts to brave the prince’s wrath, he stood with his hands up in a non-threatening manner across the room from the prince, trying to reason with him.  The prince was dressed as Castiel had left him, clad only in the breeches given to him by the elves, the cold night air had already made his exposed skin turn pink. The crazed human crouched behind the table he’d tipped on its side and moved to the back wall, the military figurines scattered across the dirt floor.  The prince expertly held a long pike in his hands and pointed the weapon directly at Singer.

“Dean, it’s _me,_ y’ idjit!  That’s enough of this now, you’re _home,_ boy!”

“Get back, you lying _monster_!”  The prince shouted fiercely, brandishing his weapon.

“That won’t help.”  Castiel grunted, moving so quickly the prince didn’t have time to react to the elf suddenly standing behind the table with him.  The human prince had barely looked up at Castiel when the general had two fingers placed on the human’s forehead and he was asleep again.

Castiel ignored Singer’s protests at making the prince sleep as he flipped the table back on its legs and laid the prince upon its surface.  Castiel stood at the end of the table and pressed two fingers onto each of the prince’s temples, just as he had done for Uriel.

The prince’s mind was in shock, that much was obvious.  Castiel began singing a spell, to calm both the prince and Singer, as he one by one took the memories of the prince’s time in the badlands of the Inferno.  It didn’t take long for Castiel to finish, but he continued singing his calming song as he removed his fingers from the prince’s head and stood at his side.  The general looked at his prince’s sleeping face, once again taking a moment to appreciate the human’s rugged beauty before turning a new spell into existence.  

This one took the shape of a ball of light, it hovered over Castiel’s palm with a soft golden glow, making Singer gasp and retreat into the corner of the small room.  Castiel took no notice of his fear, humans have always feared magic, and pressed the spell into the prince’s chest. As the spell of calming ended and took effect, Castiel gripped the prince on the shoulder and imbued one last spell into the human.  Dean’s skin marked under the general’s hand, though it wasn’t a burn or even ink being pressed into his body. Castiel felt eerily calm as he gave the prince the only gift an elf could truly give a human.

Castiel removed his hand, looking impassively at the dark red handprint he’d left on the prince’s shoulder as he touched the sleeping human on the forehead.

“Wake up!”  Castiel shouted in his native tongue, using a shock of magic to both wake the human and make his four spells come together.  The prince’s green eyes popped open as he gasped dramatically and jerked awake, nearly sending himself toppling onto the floor.  Castiel caught the young man before he could fall, and held the prince’s shocked gaze only long enough for Singer to pull the prince’s legs off the table, making the prince stand, and pull him into an embrace.  

“Bobby?”  The prince asked.  “Wh- What’s going on?”  He laughed weakly as Singer pulled him back to look at him with tears flowing down into his beard.

“It’s okay, Dean.  Everything’s going to be okay.”  Singer was smiling from ear to ear when he turned to Castiel.

“What did you do to him?”  Dean slowly turned around and looked at the elven general with a start, as if he had already forgotten Castiel was standing there, and met the elf’s eyes.

“I took his memories of the time he spent in the Infernal Lands.”

“Won’t something like that leak back in eventually?”  Singer had finally stepped away from the prince, who was gaping openly at Castiel.

“It cannot ‘leak back’ if it is no longer there.  Your prince is just the same as he was before he was taken, you need not worry.”

Singer looked skeptical but accepted the general’s explanation.  “Uh-huh, what was that singing?”

“A spell to calm the two of you down.”

“And the ball of light?”  The prince was looking at the two of them like they’d each grown an extra head.

“Protection from the fallen ones, they seem to have taken a liking to your prince, it will keep him hidden from them.”

“What the _hell_ is _this_?”  The prince suddenly exclaimed, showing off the handprint Castiel left on his shoulder.

“That is my gift to you, Prince of Winchester.”  The general rounded the table and stood before the prince.  Prince Dean looked up at the elf with a stunned expression, though he didn’t move away as Castiel closed the space between them.  Castiel fitted his hand over the handprint, looking down into the prince’s green eyes with a pointed expression. “This will bind you to me, it will allow me to find you no matter where you are, it allows you to make your voice heard to me regardless of distance.”

“I don’t want to be bound to you, I don’t even know y-.”

“That’s enough.”  Castiel said sharply in his native tongue, settling a spell into his words to make the occupants of the farmhouse _want_ to be quiet and listen.  “It also gives you some of my strength and speed, which I’m sure you will find useful in your continued struggle against the infernal beasts.”  The prince’s eyebrows raised and he gulped conspicuously, and Castiel noticed that the human’s eyes flickered down to his lips. “Your war is about to become much more difficult, Prince of Winchester, you will thank me for these gifts before it is over.”

Castiel turned to collect his pack and crossed the room to the door, only pausing when the prince cried out; “Elf, who are you?”

The general turned and studied the prince for a moment before locking eyes with him and answering.  “Castiel. I am the one who pulled you from the Infernal lands.” The prince met his gaze with a slightly dumbfounded expression.  Castiel looked the young prince over quickly, then turned to Singer. “Get him some clothes before he freezes to death.”

With that, the general exited the farmhouse, only pausing in his return to the garrison to grab the sentry that called for him by the scruff and pull him into the air.  “Do not call for me again, boy!” The terrified human nodded and Castiel set him back on the ground. A single sentence was caught by Castiel as he crossed the human’s campsite, it was extremely sarcastic and uttered by the prince.

“He seemed pleasant.”

 

“Will you be all right to take them home?”  Castiel asked Uriel after the third and final song of mourning had been sung.

Uriel nodded, “I am not opening the folds for this trip.  Our spellcasters are more than capable of taking us to the forest.”

Castiel gripped his second’s forearm tightly as they shook hands.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go to Lord Edlund with you?”

“I am sure, Castiel.  Go to King John and tell him of our success.  I’m sure I will see you again before the end of your travels.”  The two elves smiled sadly at each other and embraced tightly. “What message should I bring to Lord Edlund on your behalf, general?”

“Just tell him, ‘Prince Dean of Winchester has been saved.’”

Castiel watched the Garrison disappear, then turned to Anna and the three elves chosen to accompany them.

“Are we running, Castiel?”  Anna asked, rolling her shoulders back.

“We are.  Let us be off.”  Castiel said, and the five elves ran single file through the night.

 

“All hail the King of Winchester!  The Bane of the Infernal, the Killer of Beasts, and Hero to his People!  All hail King John the Warrior!”

Castiel couldn’t help the eyebrow that was raised almost to his hairline.  The elves had reached King John’s camp just as the sun was turning the sky a delicate shade of pink, and their request to meet with the King was put off for nearly half an hour so a crowd could gather and witness their exchange.  Castiel now stood in a small clearing of tents in front of King John’s tent surrounded by over a hundred of the king’s soldiers, it was they who uproariously hailed their king, making flocks of birds throughout the valley startle and take flight.  King John exited his tent with a smile on his lined face and raised his hands to quiet his men.

“My fellows!”  The king called out.  “The elves of the North forest have heard our plea and lent their hearts to our cause!  Let us know the name of the one who hails from the forest!” King John held an outstretched hand to Castiel and the elves, and the valley hushed while they waited for the elves to speak.

Anna, eyebrows also raised at the humans’ rowdiness, stepped forward and gestured grandly to the general.

“Warrior King of Winchester, it is my honor to introduce the Youngest and Brightest General in the history of the elves, the Leader of the Five Armies of the North Forest!  Here stands the Elf that slayed the Demon Alastair and saved Dean of Winchester from the Badlands of the Inferno!” Anna paused for a moment, letting the men absorb the general’s feats and lean forward anxiously.  “I present to you Castiel the Clever!”

The humans took leave of their senses for a time, all but tripping over themselves as they jumped and whooped and chanted Castiel’s name.  It took several moments for them to respond to their king’s call for silence.

“I thank you, Clever Castiel!  Tell me, how fares my son, the Prince of Winchester?”

Castiel cleared his throat and answered the king loud enough for all the humans in attendance to hear.  “Prince Dean is whole, your grace.” His announcement met with more ruckus and frantic cries to the gods in thanks of the prince’s safe return.  Anna and Castiel exchanged a bewildered look before King John waved for them to cross the clearing and enter his tent.

“Come, my forest friends!  We have much to discuss!”

King John was different once out of the spotlight, his joyful mirth fell away, leaving a serious and intelligent man in its place.  The king called for drinks, and the elves took seats with John around a wooden table. Once the elves all had a mug in their hands, the king spoke to Castiel.

“Please, master elf, tell me what transpired in the Infernal Lands.”  King John’s voice was quiet and thoughtful, he reminded the general of his own Lord Edlund, and Castiel could now see the warrior and leader his people hailed him to be.  Castiel regarded the king openly, his opinion of him changing drastically in a moment.

Castiel told the king of their journey into the inferno, stressing the gravity of the re-emergence of a fallen one and warning the human king that he feared this war was about to change in intensity.  When Castiel finished telling the king how he had cured the prince of his madness and made him whole, Anna and one of their guards added a few sentences to Castiel’s tale and the room fell silent.

“My heart aches for the loss of your kinsman, clever elf.”  The king said, somber as he looked down at his glass of ale.  “I beg of you, tell me the fallen’s name, so that songs may be sung of his sacrifice and his memory live on.”

“Her name was Dina, soldier and expert tracker of Lord Edlund’s kin.  Daughter of Draco and Thelma of the North Forest.” Castiel’s heart ached, and he wished briefly that he was home in the trees.

The king nodded, then stood and raised his glass in the air.  “To Dina.”

The elves mimicked him and they drank to the fallen soldier’s memory.

 

“What will you do now?”  Anna asked. The five elves stood half a league upstream from King John’s camp, on the foothills of a mountain where they could see the collection of tents in the valley below.  Castiel was the only one of his kin not readying himself to return to the forest.

“I think first,”  The dark-haired elf said, scratching the toe of his boot into the dirt, “I’ll take a nap, and not worry at all about what time I have to wake up.”  Castiel looked at Anna and the two smiled fondly at each other.

“That is a good first step, dear Castiel.  Is there any message you wish me to carry back to the forest?”

Castiel shook his head, deeply breathing the fresh mountain air.  “I am content, Anna. Fare thee well.” He didn’t watch as Anna opened the folds of the universe and the last four of his kinsmen left him.

 

The now ex-general of the five elven armies kept himself busy by bathing in the stream, then using the shiny surface of the breastplate of his armor to shave his chin.  Castiel tugged at his dark hair thoughtfully; it grew in soft waves down over his shoulders to his mid-back and had small braids throughout. Long hair was customary among the elves, and Castiel had never before given a thought to cutting his hair short.  But now he was alone in the world of short-haired humans, there was no social pressure to keep his flowing locks that were honestly more trouble than they were worth. Castiel made a face at himself, then retrieved his dagger and cut away the first braid.

When his hair was cut short enough to no longer touch his pointed ears, he dipped back into the stream and struggled with his stubborn hair in his makeshift mirror.  After realizing his hair just wasn’t meant to lie flat, or even lie in a uniform direction, Castiel dressed in his casual traveling clothes and began working to clean the blood and ash from his armor.  It was a slow process, and it gave him ample time to decide what to do next.

The fallen ones, demons, were back and roaming the surface of the world.  Even though he was no longer a general and soldier of the five armies, he couldn’t sit idly by and watch while the world of men was forced to its knees.  Castiel thought at length of the suggestion of Lord Edlund, telling himself that he would be foolish indeed to not heed his lord’s advice. Despite the plans that Castiel and his garrison had foiled in the night and the protective spells Castiel had placed on him, Prince Dean of Winchester would still be a target for the fallen ones.  If Castiel stuck close to him, he would be right in the middle of the action.

The elf couldn’t decide if he really _wanted_ to be in the center of a war.  After 500 years, which was nearly the entirety of his existence, of living the life of a soldier, shouldn’t Castiel want peace?  

Castiel sighed as he tucked his cleaned armor into his pack and lashed his sword to the side where he’d be able to draw it if need be, and settled underneath the shade of a tall pine to rest.  

All he knew was the life of a soldier, he had barely reached adulthood when he was forced into the elven army.  Would an elf like Castiel, who had been raised under the wrath of war and lived his life under its cruel rule, even know what to do with peace if he was given it?

The rustling of the wind in the leaves of the nearby aspen trees reminded Castiel of his forest, and when he closed his eyes, the light filtering through the pine needles had a green tinge to them.  It helped Castiel relax and put those difficult, unanswered questions to rest, and he quickly fell into a deep sleep as the sun rose into the sky.

 

Castiel woke just a few hours later to the stomping march of one of King John’s patrols as they approached on the path the elf was sleeping nearby.  The dim-witted humans drew their weapons at him and asked him who he was and what his business in Winchester was. They laughed at Castiel when he told them his business was his own and he was but a peaceful traveler.

The leader chuckled, the point of his spear bouncing slightly in front of Castiel’s face as the elf continued to lay on the ground below the pine tree.  “Ain’t nothing peaceful about travelers in these parts, man. What’s yer business?”

Castiel eyed the spear point wearily, then closed his eyes and laid his head back on his pack he’d been using as a pillow.  “I had an audience with King John this morning. And don’t call me ‘man,’ I am not a man.”

The soldiers burst out laughing, one saying ‘apologies, m’lady’ with an exaggerated curtsy at the same time another said ‘an audience with the king?  I’d like to have seen that.’

“If you are not a man, what are you, then?”  One of the foot soldiers said, and Castiel rolled his eyes behind their lids.

“I am elf of the North forest, my business in Winchester is my own but since you _insist_ on not letting me sleep, you leave me no choice but to tell you.  I am one of the elves King John sent for to rescue your dear Prince Dean from the fires of the Inferno.  My business here is sleeping under this tree.” Castiel’s speech was met with an uneasy silence.

“Why don’t we take him to see the king then, eh, Sarg?  If he’s really in good n’ rubbin’ elbows with ol’ John, he’ll let ‘im go.”  Castiel opened his eyes and gave the footsoldiers a hard look.

“Do you mean to make me your prisoner, _men of Winchester_?”  He couldn’t help taunting the humans, even though he knew he wouldn’t actually fight them, it was comical to meet a group of humans that thought they could take on an elvish fighter.

“Aye.”  Came the leader’s response, and Castiel resisted the urge to crush the bones in the arm of the soldier that placed him in shackles.  The soldiers were unable to lift Castiel’s pack, what with the extra set of armor and his weapons stored inside, so they made Castiel carry it in his bound hands down the mountain into the tent city of King John’s army.

The soldier’s commander left them once they reached the stockades, and Castiel bristled when the humans ordered him to place his head between the wooden planks with a deserter and a thief.  Castiel dropped his pack heavily into the dirt and squared off with the human despite his wrists being bound.

“Tell you what, you can stick your head in there and while we wait for King John, and I’ll continue my nap under the shade of your fat ass!”  No sooner had the words left Castiel’s lips when one of the friends of the soldier Castiel was slowly advancing on struck him across the back of the knees.   Castiel’s legs buckled and the soldier pushed the elf to the ground. Castiel jumped up almost faster than the eyes of the humans could follow and used magic to break out of the metal cuffs with a flash of light.  Castiel grabbed the wide-eyed human that hit him by the scruff of his tunic and punched him in the stomach. Though Castiel had pulled his punch considerably, the human still grunted loudly and feel to his knees, gasping at the air like a fish pulled from the sea.  Castiel took half a moment too long to worry over the well-being of the fragile human, and the elf was grabbed ‘round the middle and pulled off his feet. Castiel growled and barred his teeth as he struck the earth, his shoulder stinging where it had taken the brunt of the fall, and kicked and threw elbows back at the man that held him from behind.

Before the fight could get too heated, an angry voice began shouting at the soldiers, making them break away from Castiel and freeze.

King John was red in the face as he yelled at his men.  Castiel watched with smug satisfaction as they were given a fortnight of pig pin duty for attacking the elf.  King John welcomed Castiel into his tent and called for food, apologizing profusely.

“I’m so sorry.  I am completely embarrassed by my men’s behavior, General Castiel.”  The king said as Castiel brushed the dirt off his clothes and donned his backup set of armor in the privacy of King John’s quarters.  Unlike his regular battle armor, Castiel’s light armor wasn’t a shiny collection of metal plates, though it did have thick pieces of steel.  His light armor was mostly leather with pieces of steel woven between layers of hide, and along with his light green cloak it made Castiel look more like a forest elf and less like a knight in a children’s tale.  Like he was about to break into song and dance rather than head off to fight a dragon or free a maid.

“Yes, well, I’m sure we can move past this.”  Castiel muttered, though he let out a string of curses in his native tongue while strapping his greaves onto his busted shins with more force than was necessary.  “I was going to come back to talk to you anyway, King John,” Castiel turned toward the shame-faced man. “With one kidnapping already under his belt, I believe your son to be in extreme danger from the fallen ones.”

The king shook his head and collected his thoughts quickly.  “Why would Dean specifically be in danger? He’s just a man.”

“He’s not just a man, he’s the prince of his kingdom and, from what I hear, one of its best generals.”  Castiel strapped his hard leather bracers to his forearms and watched the king closely. “Other than that, I cannot pretend to know why your son is being targeted.”

The king gaped at him for a second, then changed the subject.  “General Castiel, what are the elves planning now that a fallen one has been sighted?  Surely the five armies will not leave us to fend for ourselves?” The king looked desperate.  He knew his history, then. This was not a fight humans could win on their own.

“Actually, it’s not ‘general’ anymore, it’s just Castiel.  I retired shortly after I left your company this morning.” The king’s eyebrows were lost in his curls.

“That was sudden.”  He said quietly.

“Actually, the date of my retirement has been set for many years.  Likely since before you were born, good king.” Castiel gave the human a half-smile and turned to collect his sword and dagger from his pack.  “Naturally, because I am no longer leader of the five armies, I cannot speak on the behalf of the majority of my race or give you any promises of their aide.”  Castiel stood and strapped his sword to his hips, eyeing the king as he did so. “All I can do is offer you my services.”

This was clearly not the direction the king thought this conversation had been going.  Castiel waited for the human king’s bizarre expression to clear before he continued. “Your Prince Dean needs a higher level of personal protection, King John.  I am offering to give him that.”

“In exchange for what?”  The king said hoarsely. “We have no money, we can barely afford to feed our own soldiers, much less pay the salary of a retired elvish general.”

“I have no need for your money, good king.”  Castiel said lightly as he sat at the table and pulled a plate of bread and cheese closer, the king slowly followed, looking cautious.  “I only ask that you and your son take my advice into account during the coming war.” Castiel gave the king an even look. “You will need my help before this war is over, John.”

King John thought the proposition over while Castiel ate, only speaking after the elf pushed his plate away from him.  “If those are truly your terms, then I accept your help, master elf. I will send a letter with you to Dean explaining everything.”

Several minutes later, Castiel accepted the wax-sealed scroll from the King of Winchester.

“Thank you, master elf.  I think our kingdom will owe you an impossible debt before all this is over.”  King John said as he stood just inside the opening of his tent with Castiel.

“I don’t doubt it.”

 

Castiel stepped out of the folds of the universe into the clearing near Prince Dean’s company, scowling as several shouts of alarm filled the small camp, announcing his appearance and rousing the humans for a possible attack.

The elf was met with more spears pointed in his direction.  Even the men he’d met during the night seemed suspicious of his presence, one outright denied the elf’s claims that he was the very same elven general that had saved their prince.

“You’re not Castiel, beast!  Them elves had long hair and shone with light, even in the black night.”  Dean’s men said to him, not relaxing from their fighting stances.

“I cut my hair and changed my armor.”  Castiel told them, following up his words with choice names in his own tongue.

“None of that witch-speech, imposter!”  One man shouted, stiffening at the strange-sounding enochian words.  Castiel sighed exasperatedly, giving the humans an ill-concealed glare as Singer showed up and ordered the men to stand down.  The men gave their commander looks of shock and anger before following his orders.

“Not that I’m not pleased to see you, master elf, but what are you doing back here?  I thought you and your men were going back to your homeland.” Singer said, arms crossed as he appraised the elf critically.

“It’s true of my kinsmen.”  Castiel explained. “I am here on behalf of King John of Winchester.”  Singer’s eyes widened and his eyebrows disappeared into the brim of his odd hat as Castiel held up the scroll from the human king.

“This is for Prince Dean.  I have a few things I’d like to discuss with him, as well.”  Castiel waited several moments, but Singer didn’t budge.

“The king hired you?”  The man asked, incredulous.

“We’ve come to an arrangement.”  Castiel said shortly. He didn’t wish to explain himself to this man.  “Will you lead the way to Prince Dean? Or should I stroll ‘round the camp calling out his name?”  It was Singer’s turn to scowl, the expression partially hidden in his beard, but he turned on his heel and dutifully led the way to Castiel’s charge.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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